Chapter 72

           Idrankforthenextweek.Idranknightanddayandwrote25or30mournfulpoemsaboutlostlove.

           ItwasFridaynightwhenthephonerang.ItwasMercedes."Igotmarried,"shesaid,"toLittleJack.YoumethimatthepartythatnightyoureadinVenice.He’saniceguyandhe’sgotmoney.We’removingtotheValley."

           "Allright,Mercedes,luckwithitall."

           "ButImissdrinkingandtalkingwithyou.SupposeIcomeovertonight?"

           "Allright."

           Shewastherein15minutes,rollingjointsanddrinkingmybeer.

           "LittleJackisaniceguy.We’rehappytogether."

           Isuckedatmybeer.

           "Idon’twanttofuck,"shesaid,"I’mtiredofabortions,I’mreallytiredofabortions..."

           "We’llfiguresomethingout."

           "Ijustwanttosmokeandtalkanddrink."

           "That’snotenoughforme."

           "Allyouguyswanttodoisfuck."

           "Ilikeit."

           "Well,Ican’tfuck,Idon’twanttofuck."

           "Relax."

           Wesatonthecouch.Wedidn’tkiss.Mercedeswasnotagoodconversationalist.Shewasn’tinteresting.Butshehadherlegsandherassandherhairandheryouth.I’dmetsomeinterestingwomen,Godknows,butMercedesjustwasn’thighonthelist.

           Thebeerflowedandthejointswentaround.MercedesstillhadthesamejobwiththeHollywoodInstituteofHumanRelationships.Shewashavingtroublewithhercar.LittleJackhadashortfatdick.ShewasreadingGrapefruitbyYokoOno.Shewastiredofabortions.TheValleywasnicebutshemissedVenice.Shemissedridingherbicyclealongtheboardwalk.

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